


Bad accents with Tommy and Jack

by rynotfound



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Avian Tommyinnit, Bad Accents, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Other, POV TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tired Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit Has Wings, based on today’s stream, if you watched today’s stream this will make sense, me attempting to write out the dumb british accent bit even though i’m american, neutral grounds basically, tommy and jack keep doing a dumb accent and wilbur is tired of it, tommy and tubbo aren’t friends? but they aren’t enemies, tubbo admires phil and tommy hates it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynotfound/pseuds/rynotfound
Summary: Jack and Tommy can’t stop speaking in an overly-emphasized british accent, and Wilbur visits Tommy.(Based on the stream today, labeled: ‘huge day’ from Tommy’s POV.)
Relationships: Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	Bad accents with Tommy and Jack

**Author's Note:**

> this is so very dumb. i’m sorry  
> psi: i’m american, and i’m not too good at writing out accents, so pls don’t kill me if i’ve gotten it wrong 

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. Then, with a piercing glare, he murmured, “‘M not fuckin’ useless,” He spat. “‘Ye not fuckin’ happy or ‘omethin’? That’s why ‘ye on my arse?”

Across from him, Wilbur didn’t respond. “I’m not unhappy,” He said, finally. His transparency was a teensy bit unsettling. “And what’s up with your accent?”

Tommy turned away. “I always talk like this,” He responded, fluttering his wings a bit. They weren’t as showy as Philza’s, or as boisterous in size, but they were good enough. When he turned back around, Wilbur was clad in silver, shining armor, and Tommy grinned. “Ain’t a ghost no ‘mo, I see: good ‘n ‘ye, lad. Good ‘n ‘ye.”

“Nope,” Wilbur frowned. “Still a ghost,” He said, and Tommy didn’t respond. “Where’s Jack?”

“What? ‘Ye ‘gon steal from ‘im again?” Tommy asked, and Wilbur nodded. “Well, ‘least ‘ye honest.”

Tommy pointed toward the southside of their sky-base, and Wilbur floated toward it. “Just gonna take some mutton chops.” He narrated, opening the chest.

“Okay,” Tommy said, and turned around again. His sky-base was looking good. He was high up enough so he could sleep, and high enough so his wings had the freedom they needed; soon, he swore, they would be as large as Philza’s. Then he wouldn’t be a fuckin’ muggle no ‘mo, and he wouldn’t know nobody. “Where’s Philza Minecraft, the creator of ‘is fuckin’ game?”

Wilbur thought about it. Then, shrugging, “‘Dunno.”

“Well, ‘ye fuckin’ useless, aren’t ‘ye?” Tommy exhaled, sharp. He wasn’t looking for any fights, really, just Philza. He looked up to Philza—he had huge wings, and he was _old_. He was so old! He was also wise, and brave, and— and a dad-figure to Tommy, even though Tommy kind of already had one.

Though, Tommy didn’t know who that was. He had struggled to get on in life all by himself, with his ‘muggle-ish’ powers, and then he met Jack, and Niki, and— and he had already known Wilbur, sort of. Philza, too, since they were related, and that damn bee kid that followed Philza around. That bee kid was not to be trusted; who would voluntarily follow Philza around _without_ wings? He was just askin’ for it. 

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Wilbur announced, and Tommy nodded, like he was listening. Then, “I’ll see you later.” 

Almost like he hadn’t been there at all, Wilbur disappeared. Tommy didn’t know where he had gone—maybe down the ladders Tommy had placed beforehand, or maybe he was stupidly overpowered and could teleport—but he didn’t really care, and so he just continued with his inner dialogue.

“Tubbo,” He said, tense. “That shifty little shit; I bet he’ makin’ a move on Philza. Gettin’ all that fuckin’ old-man knowledge, I reckon.”

To be honest, he didn’t really hate the bee lover. He just found him strange, and annoying, and weirdly comforting. So, obviously, it was safer to keep himself a social distance away, and a physical distance closer; it was the best plan, surely. 

“Oi, lad,” Someone’s high-pitched, familiar voice came, and Tommy turned, breath hitched. It was Jack. He exhaled, relieved. “‘Ye expectin’ a robber or omethin’?” 

“‘Ye can’t be too sure here,” Tommy replied. “Where did ‘ye go, Jackie?”

“Went to get supplies,” He responded, shrugging. After a second, and when Jack had looked through the chest he had placed right next to his bed, he turned to Tommy, wide-eyed. “Where did ‘me mutton chops go?”

“Wilbur.” Was all he replied with, and it seemed to have been satisfactory; Jack clenched the chest’s outer rim hard, and then inhaled. 

“‘M goin’ to fuckin’ kill ‘im,” Jack said, and then soon after, added, “Ah, shit— he’s a ghost, innit? Well, ‘ll kill ‘im again.”

Tommy laughed, then. “You do that.”

Overall, his day was going fine. Maybe this year would be better.

**Author's Note:**

> this is merely a crack fic. i liked the idea of this stream (which i quit after like? an hour or so?? mobile doesn’t let you see what time you’re at in the stream, so i’m not really sure) and i tried my best at mocking the accents, although i’m american so it might be bad lmfao  
> anyway i’m probably gonna go continue the stream now SOOOO !!! hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
